Ground Floor
by Michelle My Belle
Summary: This is a hiatus Lizzington oneshot and is for my lovely new FB friends in response to a prompt for an elevator scene.


_A/N: This is a hiatus Lizzington oneshot and is for my lovely new FB friends in response to a prompt for an elevator scene. This is also my first fiction work in twenty years, but I can't imagine a more compelling duo that brings this most hesitant writer out of hiding. Obligatory disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist._

**Ground Floor**

Seven months. No. Eight. It's true what they say: time flies when you're miserably living out of a suitcase and hopping seedy motels. After all that had transpired in the past two years, Elizabeth Keen wasn't left with many friends. Like most normal couples that split up, each party gets certain friends in the divorce but their situation was anything but normal. She was positive, however, that the few friends she was left with had real homes. Stable lives. Honest relationships.

With Tom and Berlin out of the picture, it finally felt safe to let her guard down and start her life over, find a permanent home. Perhaps it was time to start over in more ways than one. It felt like mere days had passed since Raymond Reddington sat across from her in her marital home among the shattered remains of her life with Tom. Cracked picture frames of happier times, broken memories strewn about from the fight. When she allowed herself to drift back to that night, the only memory she clung to was that of his words, his promises. Red had promised her that a day would come when something new would begin; that she would meet someone kind, who would make her laugh, because she deserved it. Thinking back, it seemed more like a declaration. Seldom did a man like Red reveal what lay beneath the armor but she carefully noted the times that he did. Whatever the future held for them, she longed for him to trust her enough to take down the armor, even if it had to happen piece by piece.

Staring through the glowing blue screen of her computer at work, Liz drummed her fingers on the apartment section of the paper. She drew lazy circles around a particular listing that caught her interest. She was more lost in thought than she realized when she caught Ressler waving to get her attention.

"Finally going to get a real place, Keen?" he inquired.

"If you must know, yes, I am getting an apartment. I'm so tired of take-out," she sighed. Tired of hiding. Tired of pretending. Tired of all the things she couldn't admit out loud.

"Well, when you're ready to clean out that storage unit and move in, don't call me. I don't do moving day," he chuckled at her. Only slightly kidding, he gave her a playful punch to the shoulder.

"Won't be a problem. I burned everything in the storage unit. I couldn't bring myself to look at the furniture that we picked out together," she resigned. Refusing to allow the conversation to head down this path, she quickly stood and gathered her coat and purse. "The good news is, I get to go on a shopping spree. Time for a fresh start." Before Ressler could reply, she waved a brief good night and started for the door.

The prospect of a do-over made her step quicken. Her heels clicked happily out of the office and into the elevator, leading her to the parking garage. Getting into her car, she realized a skirt suit wasn't the best attire for the task at hand, but nevertheless, she was on a mission and as usual, she would not be deterred. Off to IKEA she went.

As a rule, one doesn't enter the world of Swedish do-it-yourself furniture without a modicum of planning and organization, but in the spirit of new beginnings, she vowed to be less of a planner and embrace spontaneity. With purpose, she began her search.

Two hours and a swipe of her credit card later, Liz carefully steered the flatbed cart and its mountain of boxes toward the elevators. Getting her purchases home was going to be one thing. Assembling them would be something else. Thank goodness for wine.

She was just inside the elevator when she heard a familiar voice echo in her direction.

"Hold the door?" came the low, buttery voice.

She reached out to stop the door from closing in time to look up and see him. She hadn't told anyone she was coming here and yet here he was. Was Raymond Reddington following her? It certainly wasn't out of character for him. Possessive ass. But he was a possessive ass that wore the hell out of a navy pinstripe suit. She loved this color on him. Damn him for conflicting her thoughts.

"Red, what are you…how did you find me?" she gasped, shocked and indignant.

"Come now, Elizabeth. One doesn't need GPS in their neck to be found, especially when I am the one doing the searching," he said loftily, slowly inching closer. The doors screeched shut behind them and sealed with a loud clang. They were alone. He had her nearly backed into the corner when he lifted off his navy fedora and placed it over the security camera. Continuing until he had her effectively pinned, left hand planted on the wall of the elevator beside her head and right hand reaching behind her to pull the emergency stop. She flinched at the sudden halt, but he quickly placed his hand at the small of her back to try to keep her calm. All efforts would fail.

As he closed more of the distance between them, she looked up to see his eyes darken, pools of drowning desire. Her mind was a torrent. Of all the times they rode the elevator at the Post Office together, he waited until this particular occasion to make a move on her? There were times in the rusty yellow freight elevator that she would allow her mind to wander. He certainly took a few of those opportunities to look her up and down and imagine some salacious scenarios himself. Timing was always against them.

Liz swallowed hard, trying to conceal the erratic breathing he was causing within her. As much as everything within her screamed to respond, she was frozen, unconvinced of his true intentions.

"Close your eyes," came his simple request. She blinked up at him in confusion and nervousness.

"Close…your….eyes…Elizabeth," he breathed, dropping his voice low and soft, like a secret. She finally obeyed, giving her trust over to the man that had torn her life apart, the man helping put her heart back together.

Slowly, he placed his soft lips on hers, the culmination of a moment long dreamed about, long hoped for. Liz responded finally, sliding her hands up his vest and around to his neck, pulling him closer. Taking her cue, Red deepened their first kiss. Sparks cracked between them like static, like magnets kept apart achingly long. It was more intense than she could have imagined. The many lonely nights spent staring up at his picture on the ceiling of her motel room never led her to anticipate what the reality of his kiss would mean to her body. Or her heart. A tiny tear landed on his strong, warm hands that had made their way up to cup her cheeks. He quickly pulled them apart.

"Lizzie, sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asked, his emerald gaze tender and searching. The return of her pet name warmed her but she still struggled within to keep the dam from breaking loose. She blinked back the tears bubbling to the surface and took in a deep breath, his scent overwhelming her heightened senses.

Finally, she managed to find her voice. "I've been waiting for this for a long time. Longer than I could admit to you, or even myself. I was afraid I would have to make the first move and that you would reject me."

"How could I ever reject you? I've restrained myself with all the patience afforded to a man in love," another piece of his armor fell at her feet.

"In…love?" she repeated back, questioning to him and to herself, wondering if she had actually heard Raymond Reddington declare his love for her. "You love me?"

Shaking his head, a smile crept across his face, looking at her adoringly. "Lizzie, you didn't know? Although I haven't been able to _tell_ you until now, I was doing my damnedest to _show_ you."

"All along, you loved me and I loved you but I had to keep the biggest secret ever from the one person in the world I want to share everything with," she admitted, relieved and finally smiling back at him with brightened eyes.

"No more secrets between us, promise?" he asked, tiling his head slightly and not realizing how loaded that question really was.

"Promise," she agreed. "Red, do you think we could finish this elsewhere?"

"I'd love to take you to dinner, somewhere quiet so we can talk. I think we both have a lot to say to one another," he suggested.

"There's a place I know, not far from here. Very private. My new place?" she countered. "I have a bottle of Margaux I've been saving for a special occasion. I think true confessions and putting new furniture together qualifies."

Red couldn't stop the biggest smile she had ever seen from spreading across his face. This woman. He leaned in again to capture her lips in a searing kiss. It was clear they needed to move this discussion elsewhere, quickly. Unwillingly pulling back from her, Red took his fedora and restarted the elevator. As they reached the ground floor, the heavy doors slid open and the pair walked hand in hand to all that lay ahead for them.


End file.
